Make it the Right Time
by Diary
Summary: Re-posted under a different title. After the war, George deals with his grief over Fred and decides what needs to be done about his estrangement from Percy. Complete. Edited slightly.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

Percy only comes when he thinks George is asleep.

"How is he," he hears his brother's voice, soft and vaguely ironic, ask. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine Percy, standing awkwardly, cleaning his glasses, forcing himself to look in Oliver's direction. It's not that he dislikes Oliver, George knows. It's that he dislikes being here, annoyed at the compulsion to check on the brother he's never liked, guilty at his own annoyance.

"I think he's doing better," Oliver answers, voice bright at the fact he just won a championship. George imagines Percy is aghast at the blithe response; after all, whatever Percy's personal feelings, they are talking about a boy (man, really) who just lost the person he was closest to in the world. "He's starting to eat more. D'ya wanna see him?"

George mouths the word 'no' before Percy can say it aloud. The whole reason he comes when he thinks George is asleep is so that he doesn't have to see him. It's the same reason Percy only goes to the Burrow on Wednesday evening when everyone but their mother has meetings and other projects outside the house.

Once or twice, George has thought of showing up at the Burrow on a Wednesday evening. He's always decided against it because he knows Percy will make polite excuses and leave almost before the lies are out of his mouth. George knows how much that will hurt their mother, and he's not going to do that to her.

"Thank you, Wood," Percy says, and George rolls his eyes. Oliver was only Percy's dorm-mate for seven years and is only living with Percy's little brother; surely, neither is enough for him to use Oliver's given name.

He hears Percy leave, and he sighs, tugging his Extendable Ear back.

"Well, Forge," he says, falling backwards onto the bed, "Perfect Prefect Percy seems to be doing alright. How long do you reckon it'll take for him to stop coming?"

If Fred were here, he and George would have long been over at Percy's flat, at the Burrow, every place Percy might haunt, teasing and smirking, refusing to grant peace until Percy sighed and demanded to know what exactly they wanted. And if Fred were here, he and George would know exactly what they wanted and give a prompt answer.

As it is, George doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't really know how to want for himself.

Sure, he's wanted vanilla while Fred wanted peanut-butter and strawberry; he's lusted after older, more conventionally attractive versions of Hermione while Fred was head-over-heels for girls like Angelina; he prefers sleeping in pyjamas while Fred almost always slept in a nightgown.

All of that, however, was little details. They both wanted the joke shop; they both agreed on how it should be run. Both had veto power when it came to their pranks, and the few times one of them used it, the other respected it. They shared the same opinions of people.

Besides the very minor things, it simply never was a case of: Well, I want this, and you wanting something different is ruining my life. Time to compete, then.

Swiping at the tears forming, George closes his eyes.

He and Fred had always resented Percy's interference and attempts to dominate until the day Percy walked out of the Burrow for good. They didn't necessarily want Percy's disapproval and self-important lectures back, but whether he annoyed them or not, he was their brother, and they did care about him. They might not have ever publicly admitted it, but they did want some sign their brother did still care, that he really didn't place his career over his family.

Of course, to hear Percy tell it, while he agrees the family had legitimate concerns, they had unfairly demonised him, attempting to shame him for being happy.

George honestly doesn't remember much of the argument itself. Percy was pompous, Dad was angry, Mum cried, and the rest of the family just sat there, taking the lead from their parents, annoyed that Percy was hurting Mum and Dad. Then, Percy was gone, only tightly saying he'd send for his things before flooing away, and everyone was trying to grasp that something very important had just taken place and figure out how this very important event was going to change everything. As far as George can remember, Percy wasn't gentle and rational himself, but he'll admit he's always had a tendency to view his brother in a negative light.

"Seriously, Fred," he says, quietly. "I could really use some help."

He falls asleep waiting for a reply he knows won't come.

...

The next day, on a whim, he goes to Diagon Alley for lunch.

The joke shop is still being rebuilt, and until it's finished, he doesn't have anything to do but stay in Ollie's apartment or the Burrow. Ginny and Harry are in Paris and have offered for him to come and live over there with them, and Charlie's always made it clear that any of his younger siblings are welcome to come to Romania and stop with him should they need to. George has considered both offers, but in the end, he's decided that staying near his parents but not with them is the best thing at the moment.

A mixed group of about ten people come into the café and sit down.

Ministry, he automatically guesses.

"Don't know why we keep inviting him," one of the men grumbles.

"We like his father," one of the women reminds him.

"Well, yeah," another man says, "but for one thing, Mr Weasley doesn't work there anymore. And for another, he doesn't even like him."

"Not to mention that he always turns us down. We've been asking for months," a person with a gender-neutral voice points out. "I really think it's time we stop. Just one of us give him a vague 'should you ever want to' and be done with it. If he ever decides to take us up on it, fine."

"Making friends as always, Percy," George mutters, pushing his food away, appetite lost. He pays the bill and leaves.

...

Lee Jordan gives him a sad, sympathetic look through the two-way mirror.

After the war, the other man decided to go live with American relatives and pursue his dreamers of being a fashion designer. Fred and George had ribbed him mercilessly for that dream since he had unwillingly confessed to it at age twelve under a truth spell; however, in truth, they'd always subtly encouraged him, even when they weren't taking advantages of his skills to pull a prank. More than once, they'd discreetly dealt with those who had something to say about his plans.

"Don't give me that look," George says, crossly. "I'm doing okay; just wondering if you've asked that girl to marry you, yet."

He rolls his eyes when Lee Jordan breaks into a dopey grin. In their fifth year, the other boy got an American pen-pal, a half-blood witch by the name of Daisy Welsh. By that summer, he was crazy for her. Once he moved to America, they met in person and have been dating ever since.

George knows it's serious because he's already sent the necklace Lee Jordan bought when the three of them were thirteen to America. Lee Jordan had seen the (non-enchanted) necklace one summer when they had snuck into Knockturn Alley and convinced the shop owner to give it to him for all the money the three had on them (they hadn't been so keen on that, but Lee Jordan used blackmail). The shop owner had put a spell on him that ensured he'd suffer painfully if he didn't pay the rest by the same time next summer.

They'd thought their friend was insane, but he had insisted that it was the perfect engagement present. Then, he'd asked them to keep it safe until he found the right girl to give it to, afraid he'd lose it like he lost every important thing he was supposed to keep track of.

"I'm just waiting for the right time."

"I swear if you've lost it," George starts to threaten but is cut off by Lee Jordan shaking his head.

"I haven't. My cousin, Kara, is holding on to it for me."

"Then, what are you waiting for?"

"The right time?"

"Mate, I don't need Fred to help me come up with an invention to make you regret living," George says. "Ask her this weekend, or I'm on the next floo network to America."

As he says it, he realises he means it.

There isn't time.

He knows that Lee Jordan loved Fred, that he misses him, that he hurts deeper than he lets on, that his life is forever changed, but Fred was just a close mate of his. He wasn't a sibling, wasn't a brother, wasn't a twin. Lee Jordan didn't lose family during the war, and he doesn't fully realise that, even though it seems like there's all the time in the world, that, of course, the people you love are always going to be right there, there isn't and they might not.

Granted, until right this second, George didn't understand all this either, too wrapped up in grief and numbness to do much of anything.

"Look, Lee Jordan," he says, affectionately, "I've got to go try to have a relationship with Bighead Percy. I expect a call by this weekend inviting me to the wedding, yeah?"

His friend gives him a supportive smile. "Good luck," he says. "If she says, yes-"

"She will," George says, confidently. "And don't worry, I won't cause too much trouble at the wedding."

"Ruin my wedding day, and I'll never speak to you again."

"Now, now, no need to encourage me to cause mischief," George says, grinning. "Later, mate."

"Later, Gred," is the soft reply.

...

"George?"

Percy automatically stands up, concern etched across his face.

Shaking his head, George sets the picnic basket he brought down on Percy's desk. "Here's the deal, Perce," he says, willing himself to be confident, feeling anything but. "I know that we've never gotten along, but we've both lost one of our brothers. I don't care if you care or not, but I don't want to lose another. So, I'm going to start bringing lunch every day, and we're going to eat together. We don't have to talk. You don't even have to look at me if you don't want. But I'm not giving you any high ground. I don't give care about your career, I don't care how you treat the others, and I'm not going to insult you. I'm not giving you a way to say no and still come out the good guy."

Percy sighs and pinches his nose, closing his eyes as he does so. It strikes George that his older brother has a remarkable resemblance to their father. "Whatever you want, George," he mutters, wearily, as if humouring a sick child.

Silently, they both sit, and George begins unpacking the basket.


End file.
